


happy birthday to

by amsves



Category: The Tick (TV 2017)
Genre: Birthday, Don’t copy to another site, Fluff, Gen, very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amsves/pseuds/amsves
Summary: Our heroes turn another year older.
Relationships: Arthur Everest & The Tick (The Tick)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	1. Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur's Reddit username is TruthSeeker89. From this, I have decided that his birthday is August 9th, aka 8/9. So that's the headcanon we're working with here. Not that it matters except for one comment about the weather.
> 
> In any case, I hope you enjoy!

Today is not like most days.

Arthur knows this before he opens his eyes, because for once his ears are not being assaulted. Not by his ancient alarm clock, not by Tick breaking things around the apartment, not by crime outside his windows. It’s blissfully quiet.

That’s suspicious.

With a groan, Arthur pulls his eyes open, and rolls over to check the time. He squints, and then groans again. He jams his glasses on his face, and _then_ checks the time.

It’s 10:17 A.M.

That can’t be right. He hasn’t been able to sleep in since he started doing this superhero thing full time. Actually, wait. He got up early for Fishladder & Sons, too. When _was_ the last time Arthur had been able to sleep as late as he wanted, without interruptions?

It’s been a long time, that’s for sure. 

But that’s besides the point. Why _did_ he get to sleep in, today of all days? Where is Tick? Arthur strains his ears, but he can’t hear anything. Is he … alone?

Just as that thought enters his head, he hears the bathroom door creak open and then slam shut. So, no, actually. He isn’t alone.

Tick pokes his head into Arthur’s bedroom. “Good morning, chum! Happy anniversary of your birth! I thank Destiny every day that you were a part of her meticulous plans to vanquish evil.”

Arthur looks back at his alarm clock. Sure enough, the date staring back at him is _his_ date. His birthday. “Wow. Uh, I didn’t realize what day it was.”

“You didn’t know your own birthday?” Tick seems aghast at this. “But Dot knew! She told me about it last week! How could nobody have told you all these years?”

Arthur yawns. He hasn’t quite shaken off the last holds of sleep yet; having no immediate impetus to get up and out of bed is making him less alert than usual. It’s an unusual feeling. “No, Tick, I know what day my birthday is. I just didn’t know what day _today_ is.”

“It’s today, of course!” With that, Tick disappears from Arthur’s doorway and lumbers towards the kitchen. 

“Tick?” Arthur shouts after him. “Why did you let me sleep in? Isn’t there crime to fight?”

“I told our fellow defenders all about your day of birth!” he shouts back. “They said we should take a day off to celebrate! I wasn’t sure at first, but I trust that our colleagues will be able to save the day without us just this once. Of course, you should still keep your suit with you if you go anywhere. Destiny is funny like that, she might deliver us a new nemesis as a birthday present! Hah!”

A smile slides its way onto Arthur’s face involuntarily as an idea comes to him. “So, we don’t have to get up and go anywhere?” he clarifies.

“Nope!” 

“Great. I’ll talk to you later.” With that, Arthur removes his glasses, and flops face-first back into his pillow. He could use some more rest. That’s what days off are for, right?

* * *

When he wakes up again after noon, Arthur decides that it’s probably time to leave the comfort of his bed. His stomach is grumbling, his mouth has that distinct I-haven’t-brushed-my-teeth taste, and if he sleeps any later he’ll have a rough time trying to fall asleep that night. Still, it is with reluctance that he stumbles out of bed and into the kitchen, where there is a mug of coffee waiting for him on the counter.

It’s lukewarm from sitting out, but it was nice of Tick to pour him a cup before drinking the rest directly out of the pot. Probably.

Speaking of Tick, he’s currently assembling what looks like a sandwich made out of random things from their refrigerator. It’s a good thing Tick likes to eat pretty much anything, because they’re low on supplies. They haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks. 

Well, they do have a day off.

Arthur drinks his coffee and accepts the piece of bread held out to him by his partner. He takes a bite and a swig and swallows before saying, “We should go to the grocery store today.”

“Great idea! By the way, your mom called, and she wanted to know if you were free to come over for dinner.”

“I think we are,” Arthur says, trying to remember if there’s anything on his calendar for the day. It’s usually booked with crime-fighting, so with that out of the picture it’s looking pretty empty. “I hope you told her yes.”

“Of course! I’d never pass up an opportunity to see Joan and Walter. She wants us over at 7.” Tick takes a bite of his … unique sandwich and, judging by the look on his face, he’s quite pleased.

Arthur finishes his bread and coffee and goes through his ‘morning’ routine quickly. _Teeth, pills, shower, comb hair, check reflection in mirror, wonder when he’s finally going to get any sort of muscles from all this crime fighting, consider growing out a beard, decide to shave, get dressed._ When it is time to get dressed, he stares at his super suit for a long moment, then rolls his eyes and pulls it on. “The one day I leave the apartment not wearing it _would_ be the day we have an emergency,” he grumbles. “Birthday or not, that’s Destiny for you.”

Fully dressed and ready for the world, Arthur grabs his wallet and keys as well as a reusable grocery bag (because he _does_ care about the environment, despite his penchant for paperwork). “Tick? Ready to go shopping?” 

“I was born ready!” Tick answers, and away they go.

* * *

It’s only a short walk to the grocery store, and the weather is quite pleasant for an August afternoon. Arthur is silently thankful for this. His suit had been designed with protection in mind, and manufactured in a colder climate. The wearer getting heat stroke was probably _not_ on the mind of Dr. Karamazov all those years ago.

At the grocery store, Arthur picks up various essentials like bread, cheese, sandwich meat, et cetera. Tick contributes some blue-raspberry flavored applesauce and a few Snickers bars. It’s unfortunate, but the superhero lifestyle doesn’t lend itself well to fresh fruits and vegetables; since Arthur and Tick never know when they’ll be home or away, it doesn’t make sense to buy things that could go bad quickly. So Arthur adds some regular applesauce and canned fruit to their basket and idly hopes they don’t get scurvy.

In the checkout line, Tick is loading the groceries onto the conveyor belt when there’s a tug on Arthur’s sleeve.

He turns around. Behind him is a mom and her daughter, who can’t be older than five. She’s clutching a piece of paper with some sort of scribbled drawing on it. Arthur studies their faces for a moment, but he doesn’t recognize them. Belatedly, he asks, “Can I help you?”

“You’re Arthur, right?” The mom asks. “The superhero?”

Arthur nods. “Yep, uh, that is me. What can I do for you?”

“Well, you are just her _favorite_ superhero,” the mom continues, gesturing to her daughter, “And she has something she’d like to give you.”

The girl shoves the paper into his leg. “For you.”

Arthur takes it from her gingerly. Upon further inspection, the drawing looks to be of him. “Is this …” he trails off, not quite believing his eyes. 

“She likes your wings,” the mom explains. 

“You look like the fairies in my book,” the girl mumbles. “I want wings too.”

Wow. Arthur can feel his throat closing, his palms sweating in his gloves. “This is, uh, wonderful. Um, what’s your name?”

“Emma,” the girl says quietly. 

Arthur crouches down to be at her eye level. “Emma, thank you so much. I really like this drawing. Is it okay if I hang it on my fridge in my apartment?”

Emma nods, and Arthur smiles and straightens back up just in time to hand the cashier his card. 

On their walk home, Tick takes note of the paper. “Did you get a birthday present, chum?”

“No--well, sort of, I guess? I mean, they didn’t say it was for that. It’s a drawing of me.” 

Tick takes the paper carefully from his partner and inspects it. “This is amazing! Your likeness is really captured here. You know what this means? You’re really a famous hero now! People are stopping you to talk to you when you’re not on active duty! Soon you’ll be just like Superian, people crowding you from all sides to take your picture. I’m so happy for you, chum!” He claps Arthur on the back, and Arthur tries not to stumble. “This artist really knows what you like. How did they know that the best gift of all for you was paper?” 

Arthur chuckles, because it is kind of funny, if you think about it. Then they reach their apartment and he tapes the drawing to the fridge.

* * *

At 6:59, they ring Joan’s doorbell. Arthur had changed into more comfortable clothes in the meantime, but his gray backpack is slung over his shoulder, just in case. Tick, of course, is wearing what he always does. 

Arthur has just enough time to wonder if he would recognize his partner if Tick was ever wearing anything else before the door opens.

Joan envelopes Arthur in a hug before she even says _hello_. “Happy birthday, my son!” she sing-songs while she ushers them inside to a table already set, stacked with good home cooking. “It’s such a shame Dot can’t be here to celebrate with us, but she’s almost as hard to pin down as you are!” Walter stands up when they enter, and shakes hands with Tick before giving Arthur a solid one-armed hug. Then, they all sit.

“I hope you like everything,” Joan says, happiness dripping from her voice. “I made all your favorites. I’m particularly proud of tonight’s mac-and-four-cheese.

“Four cheeses?” Tick echoes, and helps himself to half the dish. “That sounds divine. Like a cheesy cacophony. A _cheecophony_ , mayhaps!”

Arthur rolls his eyes, but he’s not upset. On the contrary, really: spending an evening with his mom and Walter (and Tick, of course, that goes without saying at this point) is the perfect way to celebrate. 

The food really is divine, and they eat until they can’t anymore. And then, the cake appears from the kitchen, and they eat some more.

When they’re well and truly stuffed, the presents come out. From Walter, some arch supports for the boots of his hero costume (“Gotta protect your feet!”). From Joan, a new glasses case (“I know you don’t wear your glasses when you have your helmet on, and I _know_ you’re not treating them right when you take them off”) and a pair of coffee mugs that ask their owner to _Have a Super Day!_

It was nice of Evil to wait until they were done with gifts.

Arthur ducks into his old room to change into his suit, hugs his mom and not-dad goodbye, and then he and Tick are out the door into the night.

It’s nearing midnight when they finally return to the apartment, and Arthur, too exhausted to make it all the way to his bed, flops onto the couch. Tick settles down beside him and covers his partner with a blanket. “Well, chum, were our fellow city-savers correct? Did you have a good birth-day-off?”

“Sure did,” Arthur mumbles, words slurring already from sleepiness. “Was great, Tick.”

“Don’t pass out on me yet, friend! The birthday is still ongoing!” Tick stands up from the couch, and Arthur wills his eyes to stay open and follow his friend’s frame. Tick returns in a minute with a … clump of newspaper. “Here, chum. I don’t have the greatest understanding of paper, but I wanted to get you something anyways. Something befitting the greatest hero partner ever! I hope I was able to do you justice, just like that girl in the grocery store.”

Intrigued, Arthur opens the newspaper clump to reveal his gift. It’s a rock. “... huh,” he says as he lifts it up to the light. 

It really is just a roughly spherical rock. But it’s a pale silvery color reminiscent of his suit, and it sparkles in the light when he twists it, and the two thin protrusions on the top of it remind him of his antennae. “It looks like me,” he says quietly, more to himself than Tick, but his partner hears him anyway.

“I’m glad you agree! I hope that you and I together can be as sturdy as this miniature boulder on our quest for justice, or perhaps even sturdier.”

“I’ve never gotten anything quite like this for my birthday,” Arthur says truthfully, but it’s not a bad thing. “I love it. Thank you, Tick.”

Tick looks genuinely proud of himself, and that’s an even better present than the rock. “Only the best for you.”

The exhaustion Arthur has been putting off comes crashing back down on him. Yeah, he’s definitely passing out on the couch tonight. “Hey, you don’t remember your birthday, right?”

“Not a clue! I probably was born, though, unless I really am a robot.”

“Well, in the meantime, why don’t we just pick a day and celebrate then? Like tomorrow. We can just celebrate your birthday on the day after mine until when we figure out when it really is.”

And then he’s falling asleep.


	2. Tick

The day after Arthur’s birthday, he wakes up early. That’s normal, much as he’d prefer it wasn’t. But evil never sleeps, so neither do Destiny and her errand boys.

Arthur blinks, bringing the living room into focus, and that alerts him to the fact that maybe today _isn’t_ so normal. Tick usually sleeps on the couch, but Arthur doesn’t. So why …?

Ah. He’d fallen asleep on the couch after a late and particularly exhausting battle with a ghost-themed villain, birthday present from Tick still clenched tightly in his fist. Phantasma, as she called herself, could turn herself intangible at will. Arthur and Tick had run into a lot of walls (and each other) trying to catch her. But they had succeeded in the end. 

And _then_ Arthur had had the genius idea to celebrate Tick’s birthday the day after his own. Because, you know, that left plenty of time for planning and gift-buying and other birthday stuff.

Arthur mentally berates himself for not considering any of this in his sleep-deprived state as he heads into the kitchen, where Tick is making some sort of noise as usual. It turns out the noise is him making a sandwich out of more fitting ingredients, since they bought real groceries and stuff yesterday. Still, Arthur thinks a half a bottle of mustard is too much for one person, let alone one sandwich.

The picture from yesterday is still hanging on the fridge, the bottom corner flapping slightly from air coming in the window slightly cracked. Arthur grabs a mug from the cupboard, and Tick smiles warmly at him. “Morning, sunshine! Care for a mustard sandwich?”

Arthur does his best not to gag as he places the birthday rock on the top of the fridge. “No, I’m good. Uh, Tick, we’re celebrating your birthday today, right?”

“You did suggest that last night! And I agreed! Because you’re the one who specializes in stuff like planning and ~finesse~.” That last word is accompanied by a waggling of fingers. Tick then takes a bite of his mustard sandwich. Arthur can see a corner of cheese peeking out between the slices of bread, so at least there’s _something_ else there. “So, are we taking another day off?”

“I don’t know, do you want to?” Arthur opens the fridge and grabs some milk, then takes the instant oatmeal from the cupboard and gets to work preparing his own, mustard-less breakfast. 

“No, chum, I don’t. Evil is always lurking, ready to be fought!” Tick takes another bite. 

“Okay, then we won’t. Birthdays are for treating yourself and doing what _you_ like. We took a day off for mine because I like having time to sleep and go grocery shopping and see my mom, but we can definitely fight crime for yours.”

Tick drops his sandwich and squeezes Arthur in a big bear hug. “What a genius you are, Arthur! I’d like nothing more than to do Destiny’s bidding on this day.” Then, he’s back to his sandwich. 

Arthur shudders as he thinks that, between coffee and mustard, his partner’s breath is going to be _rancid_ today. He’ll keep a few LifeSavers in his suit pocket today. And maybe a clothespin.

After breakfast, Arthur locks himself in the bathroom to do his morning routine (actually in the morning today), but before he’s fully ready he makes a quick phone call to a certain local eatery. When he hangs up, he heads back to the kitchen to see Tick studying the picture from Emma.

“Ready to go?” Arthur asks, and Tick gives him a thumbs-up. With that, they get right to it, patrolling the streets. The morning is quiet, as they usually are; a purse is snatched here, a pickpocket grabs a phone there, but since Evil works late into the night, it usually prefers to take the morning off. Still, they work up an appetite.

When it’s time to break for lunch, they are strategically located within a block of Taste of Urmania. “Want to get an FLT for lunch?” Arthur suggests, acting casual. “I heard they have owl today.”

Tick is enthralled by the suggestion, and soon they’re chowing down on face, lettuce, and tomato. Arthur has to admit, the taste isn’t all that different from chicken.

* * *

After lunch they’re back at it again, stopping crime and saving citizens of The City with a smile. Arthur definitely doesn’t mind that it’s all petty thievery and such; Miss Lint has been quiet since she ‘stole’ AEGIS a little while ago, and while that’s terrifying it’s also nice. The rest of the criminal underbelly is either under her control and keeping quiet, keeping quiet because they’re terrified of her, or not good at planning and getting caught by Arthur and Tick.

It’s a satisfying day of work. There are no huge busts, no televised interviews, no life-altering revelations, just a regular day of keeping order and peace. A plethora of little victories. Arthur thinks it’s nice of Destiny to give Tick a day full of smaller accomplishments, instead of a day on the hunt of a trail going cold, for example.

They head back to Arthur’s tiny apartment, and he reflects--not for the first time, nor the last--as they cross the threshold that he’s never getting that security deposit back, and also that it might be time to look for a new place of residence since every evildoer in the city has his home address. Whatever, that’s a problem for another day. 

The problem for _today_ , he reflects, entering his bedroom and closing the door behind him, is that Arthur still doesn’t have anything for Tick’s birthday, which is ending in less than six hours. Sure, they’d gone to Taste of Urmania and eaten owl face, which Arthur knows Tick had both been looking forward to and enjoyed immensely, but he wants something to _physically_ give Tick, like Tick gave him. Sure it was a rock, but it wasn’t _just_ a rock. Arthur needs something like that, a tangible reminder of their strange and sometimes-concerning partnership.

He changes out of his suit and into a T-shirt and sweatpants, since he doesn’t plan on going anywhere fancy today, and then heads back to the kitchen. If they do end up getting a new apartment, they really need one with a bigger kitchen, because that seems to be the room they spend the most time in. Plus, food is important. Arthur’s stomach grumbles in agreement with that. 

His eye catches the drawing taped on the fridge. Then, it hits him. He grabs an apple off the counter as he shouts, “Tick, I’ll be in my room, I’ve got something to do, see you later bye!”

Then he rushes back to his room, sits down at his desk, rummages around for his set of colored pencils last used more than a year ago, and gets to work.

* * *

About two hours later, he has … something. Art is something that Arthur had been somewhat good at, but it was the kind of thing that took practice to maintain one’s skill level, and Arthur had been slacking off. While he was still tracking The Terror being able to sketch people and places of interest quickly and in good likeness had been a beneficial skill to have, but now, as a superhero, there were people for that, and also cameras and databases and so many more resources. He hadn’t found it a necessary use of his time in quite a while.

He regrets it a bit now, but the image on his paper is still recognizable. Arthur holds the paper to his chest, drawing-side obscured, and ventures out to find Tick.

His partner sits on the couch, watching a televised interview with Sage the Supernumerary about a capture he had just made. “Arthur, look! Our nipply teleportation friend is on the news!”

“Yeah, he sure is.” Arthur takes a seat next to Tick. “Can I ask you to turn off the TV for a moment?”

“Sure!”

Nothing happens.

“Tick, can you turn off the TV for a moment?”

“No problem at all, chum.” The TV powers off, and Tick turns to look at Arthur. “Whatcha got there?”

All of a sudden, Arthur feels silly. Is he really going to give Tick _paper_ for his birthday? He loves his art from Emma, but he and Tick are not the same person. But he doesn’t have another option, really, so there’s nothing to do but press on. “Well, I know you’re no paper fanatic like me, but I wanted to give you something for your birthday. I thought we could hang this on the fridge, too, if you wanted?”

Tick takes the paper from Arthur’s outstretched hands. Then, he exclaims, “It looks just like me! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was me! But I’m me.”

“So you like it?”

“Boy, do I! If this is what birthdays are all about, I want one every year. I had a great day doing Destiny’s bidding, had a delicious lunch, and got a wonderful gift from my hero partner. Not to sound sappy, but I haven’t been this happy since we defeated that evil doctor and saved Overkill and Lobstercules!”

That was only a few weeks ago, but Arthur understands the sentiment. Tick genuinely had a good birthday, despite Arthur’s lack of planning and general lack of gift-giving experience. He hadn’t really had friends to buy gifts for in quite a while.

“So, just to be clear, you had a good birthday?” 

“The best one I can remember,” Tick agrees solemnly. 

Arthur refrains from commenting and just smiles instead. “I’ll put this on the fridge, then.”

“Right next to yours!” Tick advises. “We’re a team, we shouldn’t be separated!”

The dingy white fridge looks so much happier with Tick and Arthur protecting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me and request fluff bingo squares on [Tumblr!](http://www.therewillbebeauty.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rewatching The Tick with my family and I forgot how much I love it ugh it's so good. 
> 
> Fluff bingo square: "shopping for food/clothes together"
> 
> Find me and request bingo squares on [Tumblr!](http://www.therewillbebeauty.tumblr.com)


End file.
